Fall is Breaking
It cooled down today. This morning gusts of chilly morning air blew through the room, sticking the half-curtain thing out horizontally (apparently it's called a valance, but I could never use that word seriously). Now there is no wind. The cold air sinks down from the window above the bed. Cold feet. It's coming time for fleece blankets and comforters at night, and fires in the fireplace. Perhaps there will be occasion to sleep by the hearth.
Arwen welcomed me down to the farm sometime in October. She said I could sleep beneath the aluminum roof of the top floor of the silo, which just begs for a night of torrential rain followed by a bright morning walking around in the scent of rich, rain-soaked dirt.
I think weather affects me in the broadest sense. Although I delight in the extremes of a perfect thunderstorm or a day where the clouds have gone crazy, it is the larger trends that deeply affect me. The first rain, the first cool day after summer, they are robin-of-spring harbingers. I like the time between solstices, when the changing of seasons brings out patchwork weather. When it is neither too hot nor too cold, or at least never for very long.
I am looking forward to Seattle for just this reason. In Spokane, Spring and Fall are fleeting. Before long it settles to one unfaltering extreme or the other, goes on for an eternity. I am looking forward to fog, drizzle and overcast. Back to the West side.